


a private sort of thing

by Areiton



Series: the family we make [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 19:16:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Grief, he thinks, is a private sort of thing.A burden to bear in solitude and silence.But there is a family, and they share it and hold him, when he shatters.





	a private sort of thing

**Author's Note:**

> This is it! The last of my little series looking at Tony's family and how they dealt with the aftermath. I hope you enjoyed it and thank you so much for reading!!

He is no stranger to grief. 

He is an orphan, twice over, and he stands at the funeral, May at his side, and thinks, maybe three times. 

Mr. Stark was his mentor, his friend--his hero, in every sense of the word. 

He was a father, to him. 

It wasn’t something they spoke about--wasn’t something either of them was comfortable  _ talking _ about. But it was there, in the way Tony cared for him, the way Peter leaned into that care, underscored by every word and interaction. 

He shudders and May leans a little closer, and he closes his eyes and grits his teeth. 

He doesn’t cry. 

Not here. Not now. Not surrounded by so many who loved Tony longer and better, who Tony claimed as family. 

He thinks--grief is a private sort of thing. 

 

~*~ 

 

Every time he lost someone, his world became  _ smaller.  _

He thinks, this will be like that. 

He will lose Tony--and he will lose Pepper. The Avengers. The piece of himself that Mr. Stark saw, and sought out, that he nourished and challenged and worried over and protected. 

He will lose Spiderman. 

He doesn’t even  _ mind.  _

 

~*~ 

 

Morgan Stark smiles at him, small and sad and calls him brother, and Peter thinks--this is not how grief goes. She climbs in his lap and demands stories about him and her father, and he thinks--this is not private. She pulls Harley close and forces them together and he thinks--she might save me. 

 

~*~ 

 

He stays. 

There are moments he wants to bolt--to return to New York and an apartment he knows has changed, and May who watches him with wide, frightened eyes. 

He was gone for five years and doesn’t know how to bridge that, how to go back to being the boy she loved and not the ghost she mourns. 

Pepper doesn’t look at him like that. Morgan doesn’t, and Harley--they all look at him like he’s  _ alive _ and  _ precious _ and  _ loved.  _

He stays. 

Despite the grief that feels like it will flay him open and leave him for Morgan to pick over and pull apart--he stays. 

 

~*~ 

 

The first time he goes into Tony’s workshop--he cries. 

Pepper and Rhodey don’t come here, and Harley hasn’t--he prefers the garage and the dock near Morgan’s tent. The workshop is quintessentially Tony’s, and he steps into it, and it feels like going  _ home _ , like Tony is all around him. 

“Welcome home, Peter,” FRIDAY murmurs and gives him access to  _ everything.  _

 

~*~

 

The thing is--he’s lost people. 

His parents, before he even understood what loss was. 

Ben, a sharp spike of grief so deep it threatened to destroy him. 

He thinks--Tony should be like them. 

Tony though--losing him is like Tony itself--indefinable and unlike anything Peter had ever known. 

“He loved you,” Pepper tells him one night, when Harley has fallen asleep telling Morgan her stories and Peter is doing the dishes. “He never got over you.” 

Peter looks around, at the life he built in the time Peter was dead. 

She smiles, gently. “Tony never wanted to be a father, until he realized he was one.  _ You _ did that.” 

“Did he do it for me?” Peter asks, and he doesn’t need to specify what. 

She tilts her head and says, slowly. “He did it for a lot of reasons. But--yes. In part. Tony could move past a lot in his life--his father’s abuse and Steve’s betrayal. Obadiah and the deaths his weapons caused. Everything. Tony could move past all of it. But he never got over you dying. He never got over his part in that.” 

Peter stares at her, tears in his eyes. He hasn’t cried, not in front of Pepper. Not in front of Harley or Morgan. 

Grief is a private sort of thing, even if everyone in this lakeside house wears it open and raw and public. 

“How can you even  _ look _ at me?” he asks, choked, and Pepper smiles. 

“Tony loved you, Peter. And you--he wasn’t the only one you taught how to be a parent.” 

He makes a noise, low and broken and turns his head, trying to hide his tears and Pepper’s hands are gentle, gentle, gentle, turning him back to her. She’s fierce and soft as she says, “You are  _ mine, _ Pete. Just as much as you are his son, you are mine. What kind of parent turns away from the chance to bring their child home?” 

 

~*~ 

 

Grief, he thinks, is a private sort of thing. 

A burden to bear in solitude and silence. 

But there is a family, and they share it and hold him, when he shatters. 

 

~*~ 

 

He cries, the first time, with Pepper. 

He smiles, the first time, with Morgan, listening to her high pitched shriek as he swings them through the trees. 

He laughs, the first time, when Rhodey tells him and Harley about Tony setting a lab at MIT on fire. 

He feels  _ happy _ , the first time, when Harley whispers his name, awe and wonder in bright blue eyes, hands trembling as he spilled inside Peter. 

He thinks, maybe, they are healing. 

 

~*~ 

 

The world isn’t ok. 

Harley is stolen and Morgan is terrified and Peter is furious, and Rhodey, repulsing the first of the kidnappers aside as Peter webs his way into the building, sounds familiar and  _ safe.  _

He knows that noise, the whine and hiss of the suit and it’s weapons and he knows the voice on the comms won’t ever be Tony--but he knows it means he is safe. 

He is safe and he will keep the ones they love safe. 

 

~*~ 

 

“You know,” Peter murmurs, after they are spent and sticky, and Harley’s finger rubs over the band--gold, a promise, Tony’s--on his finger, “I can’t promise you a long life. You know what it’s like, for Pep.” 

Harley silences him with a kiss, and when his thoughts are spinning and his lips tingle, he pulls back and says, “You are Tony’s son, Pete. I know that. I would never ask you to stop.” 

Tears sting in his eyes and he curls closer, needing that. Needing to be as close as he  _ can _ be. “Just promise me,” Harley breathes, “that as long as you can, you will come home to me. Don’t follow him, too soon.” 

Peter closes his eyes, because they don’t talk about that. About the drowning grief and the lure of it--of letting go and following where Tony leads. 

Peter thinks, though--he sees that same shadow and lure in each of their eyes. In Pepper’s green gaze when she watches the empty sky. In Rhodey’s when he looks to his left and sees a gaping hole. Harley’s, when he watches Morgan and drives Tony’s favorite car. 

Peter feels it most, when he’s swinging through New York, alone and the endless memorials and monuments rise up around him, oppressive and reassuring all at once. 

He clings to Harley and whispers, “I promise.” 

 

~*~

 

The wedding is not private. 

Their family comes--the little they have that is blood and the hordes of heroes who have become the New Avengers, who follow Peter in a way he doesn’t understand. The retired Avengers who fought with Tony, who knew him best--or maybe just knew him, Peter thinks. 

It is bright and beautiful and loud, almost ostentatious, and Pepper is in her element, planning and hosting, her eyes bright and gleaming. 

She’ll never remarry, Peter knows. 

There are somethings you don’t recover from. And maybe they each recovered, from the worst of their grief--but there’s no  _ replacing _ Tony. 

None of them try. 

He dances with Morgan and Pepper, with May and finally finds his way back to Harley and he leans his head against Harley’s shoulder, and says, “He’d be so happy, Harls.”

He can feel Harley’s tears against his cheek, and it feels--right. 

Soothing. 

A shared grief that is almost joy. 

Peter kisses his husband while his family watches and thinks-- _ thank you.  _

_ Thank you for giving them to me.  _

 


End file.
